Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Gee, Mrs. Cleaver, that housecoat really brings out the red in your eyes.

I had another stimulating conversation on the way to the rink this morning. Mind you, it was early, but I think it's high time I introduced the boys (my boy, very much included) to double espressos, Emily Post, or public transit. It went something like this:

Me: Good morning. Did you have a good sleep? 
Them: Huh?
Me: Did you get to bed early, or did you stay up and watch the end of the hockey game?
Them: Wha? Uh. Ya.
Me: What about breakfast?
Them: Wha?
Me: Breakfast. First meal of the day. Did you guys grab some, or would you like me to stop at Tim's?
Them: Wha?
Me: Tim's. The drive-thru, named after the dead hockey player. Did you want me to stop for a hot chocolate and a bagel? Or a mimosa?
Them: Huh. Ya. Uh. I guess. 
Me: Geez, will you look at all this snow! I wonder if it'll be another snow day, so soon after March Break, because if it is, I may have to shoot myself.  
Them: Wha? 

Now, I imagine most of you gentlemen are thinking, "Why all the questions, it's five freakin thirty, shut up already." But, in my opinion, it's never too early to start teaching the smelly little primates, a little etiquette. 

So far in life, they have a pretty good grip on how to back-check, fore-check, stick handle, give a hit and take a hit. They can shake hands in a post-game line up, usually without taking a swing, so I think it's time they learned what fork to use. Or, how to eat soup without slurping; a proper handshake with eye contact and a firm grip; what to do with a dinner napkin; in what country is it acceptable to belch the National anthem after a satisfying meal; how to dance and how to a carry a conversation.

I could use a little Charm school myself, so I did some research to see if there was a "Miss Manners" type academy in Halifax. There isn't. The closest thing I could find was the Millicent Farnsworth Academy Charm School for Crossdressers in Toronto. No lie, the number is 416-413-0827. With this hole in the Halifax etiquette market, maybe there's a small business opportunity for someone who knows their salad fork from their fish fork. Why should the crossdressers get all the manners?    

My next thought was to rent DVDs of Leave it to Beaver, so they could learn a little Eddie Haskell-ese. You have to hand it to ol' Eddie, he may have been full of shit, but at least he knew how to pour it on. And that's all I am asking for. When these boys need to pour it on in life, that they will be able to deliver the goods. Like Eddie, only with a little sincerity thrown in.

I'll end with this inappropriate, yet humourous pearl. You read on, while I go phone Millicent Farnsworth:

There was a boy who worked in the produce section of a supermarket. A man came in and asked to buy half a head of lettuce. The boy told him that they only sold whole heads of lettuce and he would have to ask the manager if it was okay. 

He walked into the back room and said, “There's some jerk out there who wants to buy only a half a head of lettuce.” As he finished saying this, he turned around to find the man standing right behind him, so he quickly added, “And this gentleman wants to buy the other half.”

The manager okayed the request and the customer went on his way. Later on, the manager said to the boy: “You almost got yourself in a lot of trouble earlier, but I must say I was impressed with the way you got out of it. You think on your feet and we like that around here. Where are you from, son?”

The boy replied, “Minnesota, sir.”

“Oh, really? Why did you leave Minnesota?” inquired the manager.

The boy replied, “They’re all just whores and hockey players up there.”

“My wife is from Minnesota!” exclaimed the manager.

The boy instantly replied: “Really! What team did she play for?”